I have been thinking about and talking about this blog for a long time - really since our first week in California - when the culture SHOCK started. My mind is always full of thoughts and realizations about how different this place is - - and really our entire lives have changed.
Guilt is a very terrible emotion - because while I love California and am ready to shout it from the mountain tops (which we can see from our house by the way) - - so much of my mind and heart are occupied by what's happening back in Sylvania, Ohio. My dad has taken yet another bad turn and the phone calls, emails and emotions about him come first and foremost when I even think about writing something so selfish as a blog.
But last night, after about two hours of sleep (total) and incredible restlessness, I need to just start writing. It doesn't mean that I'm not thinking about my dad and all ML is doing out there for him. In fact, maybe if I just write I'll be able to both worry AND enjoy. Crazy. I love my dad. I miss my dad. I worry about him every single day. I am even close to saying a prayer for his peace of mind and body.
So that's how I got here. While walking home from Sarah's school today, I was pushing Lucas in the "red delicious" stroller and walked under the olive tree. The olives have started dropping and they are all over the sidewalk along - get this, Olive Avenue, on which her school is located. So as I rolled him along, it was a tactile experience to just run over the olives and squarsh them under my clogs. Here I've been all these years, paying mucho bucks for them at the D&W Olive Bar, in my favorite fancy olive oil, and I was just mushing them up and hoping to not get them on the hem of my too-long yoga pants. They were black and vibrant and smelled good and stained the sidewalk.
That's really what California has been like for us. Everything we've struggled for, it's here. Right under our feet. We really do want a pretty simple life. And we fought uphill for so long in Michigan to have that life. We packed up and moved and are slowly, very slowly, starting to exhale. It feels amazing. I didn't realize how long or how much we'd been on pause, not being the people we want to be. The husband and wife, the parents, the friends. So much is opening up for us. I am grateful for the friends and family who've supported us on this funny journey. And we know that we exist the very best with just the four/five of us. We are a family unit that just sails through together as long as we are home together. And I'm no longer living for a vacation day or a trip. I'm living for the every day, when we are all here at 27 Hastings, looking at the mountains and sleeping with a view of the palm trees.
